The Fires of Time
by Inverter
Summary: In 2028, the world is in flux. When the air force of Indus sinks a Vedian cruiser, war breaks out and nuclear weapons are launched. Osean CIA agent Avery Danielson must get to the bottom of the conflict before the war engulfs the two nations in flames—or perhaps even the entire continent. Contains strong language and jargon.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Spangdahlem Atomic Facility**

**Spangdahlem, Belka**

**February 11, 1996**

Commandant Emmerich Biermann surveyed the skeletal remains of his factory floor. The Belkan War was over, and the Allies were closing on his facility. "Soon," he said, turning to a subordinate standing next to him, "our dreams of victory will be smashed."

Biermann stood on the catwalk, looking out over the remains of the machinery that had been assembling V2 rockets. He chuckled impotently. "You know, Klaus, we only made twenty-four of these. Twenty-four. Now they are useless. We cannot defeat these imperialist bastards with only twenty-four missiles."

Klaus had no apparent reaction. Behind him, Commandant Biermann heard the tap of footsteps on the concrete floor. "Emmerich," a voice said, approaching him, "Our time has simply not yet come to pass. The real victory will come with dedication and perseverance. Their work will ensure that true victory."

The voice picked up the intercom mouthpiece and called out at the factory workers below. "This is Colonel Hanke Dreher of the Belkan Army. Commence Operation Black Eagle. Begin packing up the vehicles. They will have a better use for us in the shield."

He patted Emmerich's shoulder reassuringly. "Schenze and I will take care of it, commandant." Looking down at the floor, Emmerich saw the workers scurrying to move all of the key parts out of the vehicles and into crates marked for the scrapyards. Perhaps there was hope after all.

* * *

**Somewhere in the Vedian Strait**

**On board the ****_VNS Abarimon_**** (Vedian ****_Jīnlóng_****-class)**

**January 16, 2028**

**0016 hours**

The _Abarimon_ had been tracking an Indian carrier for at least two days now. Captain Jibril Lin was hardly concerned. The carrier was within striking range of his cruiser, but Captain Lin had utmost confidence in his anti-air and anti-missile crews. These were trained by the Verusan Navy and already had some marginal combat experience. Captain Lin went back below and began patrolling the radar stations, waiting for the first sign of enemy movement. The cargo below decks was of great importance to his handlers in Panyu.

In the primary radar station, a voice called out. "Captain, aircraft inbound, bearing two-niner-zero to one-one-zero!" Lin stood stock still, trying to collect himself while looking properly dignified. Then he got on the intercom, barking orders to the anti-air crews. "Anti-air, prepare for attacks. Bastard fighters bearing one-one-zero are vectoring to our location. Situation compromise, repeat, situation compromise." Lin glanced at the radar screens and saw the blips. Based on the size, they were probably Aurelian-built Rafales. Dangerous at long range and capable of disarming his ship from such range. At this point, he had to pray that the firing pattern of the Rafales was too poor, or that his blip recognition skills were bad. After all, they had to be from the Indus Air Force, unless some foreign naval force was operating here.

Watching the blips approach, however, it became clear that they did not have friendly aspirations for Captain Lin's ship. He got on the radio with Vedian command.

"This is the _Abarimon_. We are under attack by Indian jets. This is a distress call. We request any assistance available."

That was the last anyone heard of the _Abarimon_.


	2. Chapter 1 — Threat Level Critical

Chapter One

Threat Level Critical

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**January 15, 2028**

**1430 hours**

Avery was consulting an issue of Osea Defense Monthly when Gabe Losa, his news monitor, burst into the office.

"Avery, there's a big story about to hit the air for the morning news in Indus and Vedia," he said, breathlessly. "Indus sank a fuckin' flagship." Avery sat up straight at the news. "How?" Losa sighed. "We don't know yet. The distress calls didn't include that." Avery shook his head. "That's bad news," he said. "Keep me up to date." Losa nodded and ducked out of the room.

Avery whipped over to his phone and dialed for Brighthill. "Theresa, I need a briefing with the President at the first possible appointment time." Theresa Hamilton, President Donilon's appointment secretary, was always quick with a time. "How does three sound?" Avery smiled. "Three sounds great. I'll be there early, as usual."

**Brighthill Manor**

**Oured, Nassau**

**January 15, 2028**

**1500 hours**

"Doctor Danielson," the President called from his office. "Come on in. I've heard you've got news for me." Entering the office, Avery nodded. "Yeah. Big news. Mind if I set up the board here?" President Donilon shook his head. "No, not at all, do whatever you need to."

Avery set up his board and pointed to the first sheet, which had the picture of a cruiser on it. "This," he said, "is the _VNS Abarimon_. About an hour ago, SIGINT of the Vedian military picked up word that it had been sunk by unknown forces, though we all know who they were loyal to." Heads around the room nodded in assent. "The thing is, sinking this ship makes no sense as a purely political move. It's way too dangerous. The Indians must have thought, or had reason to believe that there was something a lot more important about this boat than its standing in its own navy."

Avery turned a page and continued. "Now, overflight VISINT over East Clavis from a few days ago may help us out. The _Abarimon_, or a ship like it, was seen docking at Verusa's Naval Site Three-Seven-Five. This site is a particularly unusual choice. All of Verusa's naval sites in East Clavis are extraordinarily well-defended. As far as we know, Three-Seven-Five is used almost exclusively for the loading and unloading of special forces units." At this point, Avery was cut off by the Secretary of Defense, Kevin Anderson.

"So you're saying there's a Vedian Jinlong that we can place at this Naval Site Three-Seven-Five, and it was loading something in secret?" SecDef Anderson asked. "Exactly," Avery replied, "we can place a Vedian vessel there. The only thing we don't know is which one. I choose the _Abarimon_ because strategically it makes sense. The cargo would have to pass close to Indian waters because it's heavy, forcing the ship into the deeper parts of the strait. The Vedians would have figured on Indus being run by pussies who don't want to risk a war even though their rivals' biggest ship is in striking distance. What we assume at this time, however, is that Indian intelligence got wind of what this boat was carrying. That would explain the sudden, at-present unknown attack."

President Donilon smiled weakly. "With all due respect, Doctor Danielson, I'd like to hear you kick around some theories here. What are some potential cargoes you might expect to find? Surely it's not just a shipment of Type 56 rifles. There's got to be something of greater value sitting at the bottom of the Vedian Straits." Avery nodded and turned the page on his board. "I've got just the thing for you," he said. "Now, of course, we can't confirm these ideas, but these all have some legs. First up is a tantalizing idea. There may be parts to a new indigenous aircraft design on board. Vedia has been upgrading Verusan types constantly for decades. Perhaps they had components engineered in Verusa and moved to Vedia for final assembly?" Before he could finish his thought, Secretary of State Keith Welsh cut in. "Unlikely," he said, quite authoritatively, "potential for damage is too high." Avery pointed at the secretary. "Good catch," he replied. "That's the reason we've pretty much ditched that theory."

Avery pointed to another image, this one of a collection of weapons. "Now, it may not have been rifles, but it could have been some kind of explosive ordnance." SecDef Anderson cut in again. "How do we know it wasn't Verusan spec ops or something?" Anderson asked. "Good question," Avery replied, "we know it wasn't troops because the infrared VISINT showed us that the cargo is metallic and that a small part of it was of a greater temperature than the background, but not its entirety."

Finally, Avery turned to his last page. "Here's what we really don't hope it was," he said, pointing to the menacing image on the page. "But it could have been a nuke." The President shook his head. "Come on, Danielson," he said, "we need something more than could-haves." Avery shook his head. "Well…here's the thing. The shape of the higher temperature matches that of a nuke. The heat emitted by the object, though, indicates that the nuke is way bigger than it should be, assuming, of course, that it is in fact a nuke. We'd be looking at a decrepit device, or a MIRV. I'm not really sure which is worse."

National Security Advisor Meredith Maier had her own questions. "So if this is a MIRV, what are we looking at in terms of national security threat?" All Avery could do was to shake his head. "Meredith," he said, "if this is a MIRV, it's a goddamn V2. If it's a goddamn V2, God help us all."

* * *

**Indian Defence Intelligence Agency Office**

**Classified Location**

**February 2, 2028**

**1920 hours**

Intelligence Colonel Suresh Misra was to complete his report for the Director General. The DG needed to know the exacting contents of the Vedian ship sunk almost three weeks ago that started this damn war. Misra was completing his report on the Rafale strike that destroyed the _Abarimon_, which the Intelligence Bureau knew had a nuclear weapon on board. According to further intelligence conducted by the Joint Cipher Bureau, it appeared to be a highly-prized Belkan missile, but beyond that, details were unclear.

Misra was done. His conclusion had been prepared. With utmost confidence, he instructed his computer to remotely print the report down in the archives. With his top-level clearance, Colonel Misra could collect his huge report in secret, away from the prying eyes of Intelligence Operatives—or worse, Intelligence Sergeants. _Sneaky kamīnē_, he thought to himself, _always trying to get in on the big boy action._

Misra collected and collated his report. It was late in the day, already dark outside. Misra walked up to the DG's door and knocked. The DG told him to come in. When Misra opened the door, a rifle butt came down on his head, and knocked him out cold.

"Good work, old _fiesling_. Maybe we'll even let you live for letting us go about our work on our own," the tallest man, probably their leader, said. "Annika," he said, "take our friend Mister Misra down to the vehicle." The female commando complied with his order, tying up Misra before absconding with him through the broken window. The leader then produced the briefcase that had been cuffed to his wrist the whole time. "Now, we're going to send a message," he said, opening the case. Inside was a bomb. "_Apaśabda,_" the DG muttered, "what will become of me?"

The leader must have smiled under his balaclava. He pulled some keys from his pocket and laid them on the table. "If you hurry, there's a car in parking lot B2. It's a black Soldat. These keys will turn it on. Maybe you can get away in time. Maybe not. Who knows? _Ich habe keine Zeit, um mit Ihrem genetisch minderwertig Art umzugehen,_" the last part spoken in a tone of disdain.

The leader waved at his comrades. "_Lassen Sie uns zum Teufel hier raus, Gruppe,_" he shouted. The commandos quickly roped out of the DG's office. DG Isha Chowdhury collected the keys and scurried for the parking lot. He prayed to Brahma that he would make it in time.


	3. Chapter 2 — Cooked Pistol

Chapter Two

Cooked Pistol

**244 Gant Drive**

**Margate, Nassau**

**February 3, 2028**

**2100 hours**

Avery's phone rang. He slid the lock to accept the call. "Danielson. Speak." But Avery already knew who it was. "Avery, it's Diego. I've got some information about the Intelligence Bureau, over in Indus. Have you heard from them in the last day or so?" Avery shook his head. "No, we haven't, we've only heard from our contacts they have in the field. Why?"

"Avery, the Intelligence Bureau is gone. Someone planted a bomb. The Indians know that it happened, but they don't know who did it, or why. The DG was found dead in the parking garage. He was cooked pretty well."

"Honestly, I don't get where this is going. Cut to the chase."

"It wasn't the Vedians, Avery."

"Who was it, then?" Avery asked. "Surely it wasn't—"

"It was Belkans. It had to be. The blast pattern matches Belkan suitcase bomb specs. Not a nuke, doctor, but definitely a Belkan device. Belkan nationalists have used these damned things for years now."

Avery winced. His mind was swimming with the possibilities. "Uh…so how do I broach this with people back at Fort Eustis?"

"I don't know, Avery," Diego replied. "Maybe it's best if you took a vacation, yes? You have free time coming up. Perhaps we could meet in Panyu."

"Sure," Avery replied, "that would be great."

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 4, 2028**

**1300 hours**

"Alright," Director Beckett said. "You can have your vacation. But promise me you'll have at least one briefing with President Donilon, will you?"

Avery nodded. "Sure," he said, "anything for the boss." Beckett smiled. "Good. Don't get yourself into anything nasty out there, now. You're not a fighter jock anymore."

Beckett was a CIA veteran now, having been with the Agency since 1997. Getting shot down by a laser-equipped fighter jet in the skies over Belka wasn't his idea of a good day, but in exchange for keeping some embarrassing details about his past under wraps, Beckett felt that he had gotten a pretty good deal. He had successfully negotiated the Andromeda away from Belkan elements in the Agency back in 2010, preventing what could have been a catastrophe. Now, he was Director, a position he had taken a bit of a liking to ever since President Donilon had appointed him in 2021.

But he had his concerns about the situation Avery was heading into. This stunk of Belkan involvement. The whole thing just sounded too massive, too overarching, and too…fictional to be anything else. Beckett dismissed these thoughts, however, as he had more business to conduct. Admiral Andersen was retiring from his position as Chief of Maritime Defense Staff today, and his long career was something to celebrate.

* * *

**Hotel Gloria**

**Panyu, Verusa**

**February 6, 2028**

**1700 hours**

Avery's Verusan cell phone rang. "Danielson," he answered. "Hey Avery, it's Beckett. The President wants to brief with you on the Indus War at around twenty-hundred your time. You up to that?" Avery looked over at Taylor, getting dressed for dinner. "Taylor, baby, eight o'clock okay for my little work thing? It'll take about half an hour," he said. Taylor nodded in response. "Yeah," Avery said, turning back to his phone. "Twenty-hundred will work."

After getting ready, Avery and Taylor got in a cab downstairs. They left Sierra with Taylor's brother, Charles, who was staying in the Gloria on business with his wife. Sierra rarely got to see her extended family, so it seemed like a win-win. Avery had heard plenty of good things about a cozy little continental place in town. More importantly to him, they offered newspapers and TV always turned to the news. It was a popular place with businessmen.

The couple sat down at a table, Avery more focused on enjoying some time alone than anything else. Not long after the food arrived, a rather pleasant conversation was interrupted by Avery's phone ringing. "Goddammit," he muttered, to the apparent distaste of Taylor. "Shit, I have to take this," he said, bowing his head like a guilty puppy as he said so. Avery walked toward the restrooms. "Fuck's sake," he hissed, "what do you want, Beckett?" Patrick maintained his trademark calm demeanor. "Avery, go find a TV, and park your angry ass in front of it. My reason for calling you will make sense in a few seconds."

Avery walked out to the bar, hearing a chorus of cell phones as he did. Glancing at the TV, he saw that OBN World was announcing a breaking news alert. _Huh, looks like Thompson really rose in the ranks,_ Avery noted to himself, as Brett Thompson announced that there was a shocking breaking story coming through the pipes. "This just in," he said, shakily. "The first…the first known nuclear attack in history has been conducted by Vedia, against targets in Indus. More on thi…this story as it develops."

Avery turned back to his phone. "Jesus," he said. Beckett sighed on the other end. "I guess I couldn't soften that fall, huh?" Avery was still processing it all. "Fuck, this is not what I was going for. I could have sworn this wouldn't have happened. Where did I get this wro—" Beckett cut him off. "Avery, not every calculation is spot-on in this business. You and I both know that all too well. Look, get your ass back to the hotel. The President wants a briefing a little sooner than expected."

Avery walked toward the table, yelling for the check as he went.

**Hotel Gloria**

**Panyu, Verusa**

**February 6, 2028**

**1900 hours**

Avery opened up his portable briefing suite. He had Vedian and Indian nuke specs lined up. He was prepared to apologize profusely for not being accurate with his projections. But all expectations were out the window. He knew that as well as anyone. His first goal had to be prevention of Osean involvement. There was too much that wasn't known here.

President Donilon opened the briefing. "Danielson, what the fuck is going on?"

Avery sagged his shoulders and sighed. "Look, sir, this is still developing. We can't go off on this half-cocked. This entire situation went way beyond all expected parameters. This is just one of those things—" he was cut off by the President. "You're goddamned right it went beyond parameters! Now we need to fix this shit!"

Avery pulled himself up. "No, sir, this is not the time for crazy ideals. This is a time to take a step back, and try to piece together what the fuck just happened. There's too much shit swirling around. We need to take a long, critical look at what's gone on here, and figure out who's even in the wrong. For all we know, this was the work of some goons."

Everyone in the briefing looked around for a moment. Finally, Avery broke the ice. "Here, let's talk action plans. The Yukes will pretty much do anything for us. They can send a GRU team in to Vedia and collect samples. Meanwhile, we send, say, Bartholomew and his people over to Indus and we can collect samples there. We get an SR-91 overflight routine going, we look at the blast radii. All of this gets us closer to piecing together what happened. Meanwhile, let's get Foreign Service on the case, let's get a cease-fire going. Nobody wants to see kids getting fried on the six o'clock news, right?"

Everyone started nodding. "Yeah, okay, let's get on it. I can even administer some of this from here in Verusa for the next couple of days. I can be on call. Does that sound good?" Donilon nodded in affirmation. "That sounds good, Danielson. Let's go, people. Let's get on this."

More discussions of action plans continued. After the briefing was concluded, Avery went to Charles' room to pick up Sierra. "Hey, Chuck," Avery said, as the door opened, "I need to talk to you."

Charles motioned for Avery to come in. "What is it, man?" Charles asked. "Look, it's hittin' the fan over in Indus. I know you're here on business with Nina, but I don't know how safe Verusa's going to be in the near future. This just looks like a lot of trouble. I'm already negotiating with my company to allow me to come home early, but, you know, labor regs." Charles nodded. "Sure, I'll think about it," he said.


	4. Chapter 3 — A New Challenger

Chapter Three

A New Challenger

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 9, 2028**

**1200 hours**

"Thanks, Doctor Danielson, for working with us on such short notice. I'm sorry you had to drop your vacation so quickly," DCI Beckett said. "But hey, back on the job. I know you love it."

PJ was right, but it didn't make the sting of being away from family any lighter.

"Alright," Avery said, "let's get started. Recon has come back, and we've gotten some info back from our friends in the GRU. The Yukes have been pretty forthcoming in helping us gather information, and they've been happy to share info with us, as we have with them. Here's what we know: we've got a soil sample from the suspect blast site in our possession, and Robby Mason and his crew are figuring out where that came from. We also know based on these images fresh outta Central Recon—" he clicked through to the images of the blast site near Saidpur—"that we're not dealing with a regular Verusan or Vedian nuke. This is something different."

He clicked through a handful of other images. "These blast patterns, as you can see, don't match," he continued. "It's almost as if there were multiple blasts, the degradation of the shape is so extreme." Avery clicked through some more slides. "What analysts in the basement are saying right now is that this is likely a MIRV. The warheads were separated, but all coordinated to the same location. The misshapen explosion would be the result of margin of error in the coordination of the warheads."

Avery cleared his throat before continuing. "Right now, I would say we would be well-advised to be on alert. This is a rapidly-evolving situation, and we need to address it as such. Any questions?"

No hands went up. "Great," Avery said. "Dismissed."

**Federal Nuclear Output Research Center**

**Deerfield, Redmill**

**February 10, 2028**

**1422 hours**

"Okay," Dr. Mason Rhodes said. "We've got our sample, so let's play."

Analyzing the sample would take a few minutes. After the computers completed their assessment of the small container of soil, a printout slowly materialized from the printer connected to Mason's setup. "Hmm," he said, pensively tapping his chin. "This sample is unusual. Patricia, get me the book." Patricia Gorman, a doctoral candidate at Whittier for nuclear physics, went to fetch what was essentially a field manual for this kind of work—the _Compendium of Nuclear Test Samples._ Her small frame struggled with the size of the book, which contained every single nuclear test sample ever recorded.

Mason began scanning through the book, shaking his head as he ran his fingers over entries of Vedian and Verusan tests. The Vedian and Verusan samples had almost nothing in common with the sheet he had next to the book. This just caused him to further retreat into his own mind.

He picked up a phone, glanced at a business card some CIA spook had handed him, and dialed Dr. Avery Danielson's office at the CIA. Maybe this guy would have a clue.

Avery's desk phone rang. The call ID indicated a Deerfield number. "That's odd," Avery said, picking up the phone. "Danielson."

"Hi, Doctor Danielson, the operator let me get through to you. I've got something to tell you about that sample you gave us?" Avery now realized who was calling. "Ah, you must be Doctor Rhodes! Good to hear from you. Okay. What's the problem you're running into? I'm, uh, not really a nuclear expert but maybe you can toss something at me that'll stick."

Mason nodded instinctively. "Yep, I've got a real greasy one here. I've combed through my _Compendium_ with a fine-toothed comb and I've got absolutely nothing here. This isn't even close to anything the Verusans or Vedians have previously tested. Do you all have any weapons that may have come from outside?"

Avery froze. Was Mason cleared for the information about the Abarimon? He would have to gamble. "Well," Avery said, stammering as he spoke, "uh, there, well, there's this one thing, uh…"

Mason nodded. "So there is another possibility, huh?" Avery rapped his knuckles on the desk before continuing. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We do have Indian intelligence indicating that a Vedian boat had a missile of Belkan origin on it. We don't know exactly what type, but I guess a Belkan nuke isn't out of the question, since we are talking about a MIRV here. But you never heard that from me, or anyone else. Understand?"

"Yeah," Mason replied. "I hear you." Avery smiled. "Good," he said. "See what you can dig up."

**Brighthill**

**Oured, Nassau**

**February 11, 2028**

**1430 hours**

DCI Beckett swiped a card to access an elevator. "Welcome to the circle of power, Danielson," he said. Avery was fidgeting with his shirt collar. "I guess I…didn't really expect to be here," he said, nervously. Meeting the President, Avery had done that before, but not under these circumstances. _Hell, he thought to himself, I've already met this President in the past two weeks._

Armed with a thick manila folder detailing the worst fears of modern society, Avery felt a lot of pressure. _What will Donilon say? Will he just flip out? Will he respond like I hope he will?_ Beckett must have seen the confusion and pensiveness on Avery's face. "Is…something wrong, Doctor Danielson?"

Avery shook himself off. "No," he said, "not much, anyway."

Beckett shrugged as the pair entered the elevator. Avery had been on it before. A simple, stainless steel-and-aluminum elevator, it would look right in a building from fifty years ago just as well as today.

Arriving at the first floor of Brighthill Manor, Avery and Beckett turned toward the Presidential Office Suite. The Suite was the focus of all of the world's superpower's might. President Donilon had Marines everywhere, Avery noticed. _Guess it can't hurt to be too careful, not least if he knows what we've gotten wind of happening in Indus,_ Avery thought to himself. Besides, the Marines he'd worked with had been pretty upstanding guys.

Avery walked into office, only to find the President pacing back and forth wildly. Donilon froze as Avery and Beckett entered. "Good," he muttered, "let's get to this."

Avery presented what was known up to this point. He then added that ECHELON teams had collected soil samples from Indus that were being analyzed by Dr. Mason Rhodes and his team at the Federal Nuclear Output Research Center. "Have they come up with anything?" Donilon asked. Avery hung his head. "Not yet. In a day or two, thanks to some plants inside the Center, I think they'll hit on something. But at this point, we're working off the assumption—" Donilon cut him off abruptly with a curt reply—"assumption, Doctor Danielson? We don't have much time for that, so cut the crap. You're saying you don't know."

Avery felt pinned. It wasn't a good sensation.

"Technically, we don't know, but logically speaking this is the only real conclusion at this point, Mister President. Unless you happen to know something the Agency doesn't." Beckett surreptitiously placed a hand on Avery's lap, in an effort to keep him from doing something he might regret.

Avery realized that at this point he was halfway standing in front of his seat at the large meeting table. _This is awkward,_ he thought to himself, trying to make his re-seating move seem more natural than it was.

"Anyway," he continued, "We've got a pretty good bead on this, we're more or less in the process of waiting for final confirmation from Doctor Rhodes and his people. What I'm here to discuss is response. I'm here with DCI Beckett to be a sounding board. We have to work off an assumption here. We have to assume that this is a V2. What are you going to do in response?"

Donilon tented his fingers on the table. Avery was now taking some time in his own mind to try to piece some things together about this man. Here he was, talking to a President with no military experience, who insisted on running military operations without input from his Chiefs of Staff. _What kind of nut is running this country?_ Avery wondered. His silence was soon broken by the clearing of a throat.

"Doctor Danielson, how about this. We mobilize a number of Foreign Service Officers and try to work out a diplomatic solution. We've got ambassadors and well-trained staffs at each embassy in the countries involved, and we try to goad the Verusans into this because they want to be 'responsible world citizens' anyway. I don't think they can really do it, but here's their chance to prove me wrong."

Avery sighed. "Uh, sure, I guess we can, uh, do that. I'm not sure you're going to be able to get a couple of countries who've thrown goddamned nukes at each other to negotiate, but it's…worth a shot, I guess." Avery twirled a pen around in between his fingers, hoping that what Donilon said didn't mean what he thought.

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 11, 2028**

**1800 hours**

The day was coming to an end. Avery was feeling like leaving the office at about 1830 hours. A little later than usual, but there was a lot to deal with, considering this bullshit in the Atlantic Ocean. Even so, tomorrow, he was flying out nearby. He still had an arrangement with Diego that he'd skipped in the wild events of the bombs going off.

Lost in thought, the phone rang. It was Rhodes' number. "Danielson," Avery said, picking up the phone. "Hi there, Doctor Danielson," Rhodes said, almost cheerily. Sensing the awkwardness, Rhodes picked up very quickly. "Ah, I was calling you about those test samples. The lead you gave me was solid. Never would have thought to check this out. I'm getting a positive ID on this last missile with the Spangdahlem centrifuge, probably from back when it was operated by the South Belkan Munitions Factory substation there. It's been reactivated for testing purposes but its samples don't gravitate so strongly to uranium output. Looks like a hit for a V2, unfortunately. Hope that helps!"

Rhodes was pretty cheery for a guy who basically just admitted the entire human race was now officially at stake. "Uh, thanks for clearing that for me, Doctor Rhodes," Avery replied. The two exchanged formalities and hung up. Avery still had one more call to make, though.


	5. Chapter 4—Discovery

Chapter Four

Discovery

**Hotel Gloria Bar**

**Panyu, Verusa**

**February 13, 2028**

**2100 hours**

"Fuck."

Avery slammed his briefcase down, somehow landing right side up. His hatred for Corrigan went well beyond their moral foibles. "Fucking can't make a comfortable plane for shit," he muttered, settling himself into the more comfortable booth bench. The leather was supple, and it was a lot better than a shitty Verusan Airlines seat.

"Anyway," Diego started, "we have business to talk, yes?" Avery nodded. The jet lag was already catching him. "Yeah. I'm tired, but I think I can manage," he replied. "Okay," Diego said, "you were able to slip the V2 info through carefully, I hope."

Avery could just shrug. "Uh, I think I sneaked it past them without too much Green Dawn involvement. It's pretty easy to convince people back there to fly an Aurora up and see what the ground looks like, and a nuclear blast has a pretty dramatic effect." Diego grinned. "Good, good, it looks like we taught you well. Your tradecraft is impressive. Remember, just because Rutherford's gone doesn't mean you'll be without moles."

He knew Diego was talking like this because of his tiredness, but it didn't make Avery feel any less like a preschooler. "Look," he said, cutting off Diego's next thought, "we've still got a big fuckin' problem here. How many more V2s are floating around? There could be as many as twenty-two, and the Verusans might have them all. We don't know who's funneling these things, though I guess we know where they're coming from."

As if on cue, Avery's phone began ringing. "It's Beckett," he said. At the mention, Diego's eyes lit up. "Greet him for me," Diego said. Avery nodded as he took the call. "Norton," he responded, playing up his old identity. Beckett replied, calm as ever. "Danielson," he said, "good to see you're responding to phone calls. Anyway, I had some new info to throw at you. I've sent it over encrypted email. You should have it by now. Pretty big lead we got this time. Anyway, hope you have a good trip there in Verusa. Maybe it'll suck a little less this time, eh?" Avery stopped him. "Well, actually, uh, Delta Lima sends his regards. Wanted to make sure I got that little part in." Beckett almost audibly smiled. "Good to hear he's alright. Tell him he's done good."

Formalities were exchanged and Avery replaced the phone on his belt. He turned to his briefcase, pulling out the Defensebook in his briefcase. "PJ says I have some new info," he said. "Do you mind?" Diego shook his head, and Avery knew he wouldn't. But they were professionals. As Admiral Andersen once told him, professionals are as professionals do. I'm not really sure if that has anything to do with this situation, but it came to mind anyway, Avery thought to himself.

Upon reading the email, Avery realized that Beckett wasn't kidding when he said it was a good lead. "Damn," he muttered. Diego leaned closer. "What did you find?"

Avery cleared his throat. "Helluva lead," he said. "We've got our man…on fingerprints. Fuck, the FIO coulda done this. Not the brightest guy on the block here. Guy must be young if they could pin him so easily." Diego shrugged. "Not much good if you don't have him in cuffs," he said. Avery nodded. "True, but I think that'll come soon enough."

* * *

**A Kelling gas station just off OF-41**

**4 miles from Bellingham, Nassau**

**February 13, 2028**

**2307 hours**

"Sir, I'm going to need some kind of ID," the clerk said lazily. He hated working the night shift at this shitty gas station in the middle of nowhere. There were crazy bastards who came in here at all hours of the night, not looking old enough to buy alcohol, but trying anyway. This man seemed a little too nervous about his purchase. "Sir," the clerk repeated, before being cut off. "Fuck you, here's my goddamned ID!"

The man pulled a gun and looked intent on using it. "Al-alright, fine, take your fuckin' vodka, man! I don't wanna get killed for this shitty job," the clerk screamed. The fact that the glass was probably bulletproofed against this madman's gun didn't mean much to him in the moment. He just wanted this latest episode of crazy shit to end.

Before he could even get his bearings after ducking, the man was gone. Alex Parsons did his best to get a good look at the car at the pump island and dialed 911.

**OF-41, mile marker 96**

**10 miles from Bellingham, Nassau**

**February 19, 2028**

**2318 hours**

Nassau State Trooper Corporal Mike Anderson was sitting in his Danver Interceptor police cruiser, waiting for one of the many late-night speeders out on Highway 41. His coffee was still warm, and quite drinkable. But tonight, his coffee routine was interrupted from a crackle on the radio. "All units on Highway 41, this is dispatch. We have reports of a possible two-eleven from Bellingham County Police, break. Suspect was reported fleeing the scene in what was described as a blue Gnade sedan. We suspect a Gee Zero Zero, repeat, Golf Zero Zero, break. Suspect matches description of a suspect wanted by the FIO. All units north of mile marker 88 are requested to be on the lookout for the subject vehicle. Vehicle last reported on a northbound bearing. Subject may have turned around and headed southbound, however, so at this time, dispatch requests that all units within twenty miles north and south of Bellingham on Highway 41 be on the lookout. Over."

Just as the dispatcher finished the APB, Anderson scanned the well-lit road. About a hundred yards behind him, he saw a dark shape under the road lights, moving at something way faster than 70 mph. He hit the gas and saw the readout on his radar: 115 mph.

"Dispatch, this Five-Charlie-Seven, I've got a speeding vehicle at mile marker ninety-six, vehicle possibly matches description of subject vehicle in the APB. Subject is really bookin' it, could use some backup here."

Within the hour, six Nassau State Police cruisers were pursuing the Gnade as it tore through the Nassau countryside. Corporal Anderson had never coordinated a chase before, and now he was having to lead a big one too.

"Five-Charlie-Seven to all units. Let's try to box him in. We've got the size advantage on him, over." The other units moved to try to box the car in, but the driver wasn't having any of it. As Three-Adam-Six moved forward to take the head, a window rolled down, and the night sky flashed with gunfire. Three-Adam-Six moved back just before the occupant could get a good aim. "Three-Adam-Six, shots fired, I repeat, shots fired! We have at least one armed occupant in the vehicle!"

The six cruisers were big, taking up so much space on the four-lane highway. Before long, they had a Corrigan Explorer overhead, tracking with the chase.

"Rotor One to Central, I'm with the target vehicle, assisting units on the ground. Acknowledge, over."

Inside, NSP was also transporting two expert snipers with the state's SWAT team. Accompanying them were four of the state's best in the field of special weapons and tactics. NSSWAT had its finest tracking the gas station stickup artists now, but they were holding back with the gunfire now that officers were just tailing them.

The chase became nearly dreary on the open roads. The Interceptors, big as they were, could still match the Gnade step for step on wide highways like this, their huge V8s continuing to lay power down on the surface with ease. _Something has to break the tension,_ Corporal Anderson thought to himself.

Almost before he could finish this thought, he heard a bullet whiz over his cruiser, but he never saw the flash. Before any of the troopers could process what was going on, two more bullets whizzed over head, and troopers in the lead could hear the _fsssshhhhh_ of air leaking out of the tires of the vehicle they were chasing.

Within seconds, it was all over. The troopers at the site took inventory of the situation, including the IDs of the occupants. "Looks like we got a Jonas Fleischer, and I'm getting a hit on him being wanted by the FIO," Corporal Anderson noted from behind his cruiser's computer. He called the local FIO field office to check the wanted status of his Jonas Fleischer.

* * *

**Chelsea Restaurant**

**Panyu, Verusa**

**February 14, 2028**

**1300 hours**

Avery slumped over in the seat. "I wish I was back home," he groaned to Diego. "I miss Taylor."

Diego clucked with disapproval. "You can't be like that, Doctor Danielson. This is not the time. We've got work to do. We need to figure out what's going on here. That's why we're sitting here, looking so suspicious, with our computers."

Diego looked as if he intended to go on, but Avery's cell phone rang. It was Beckett. Again. "Norton," Avery said glumly, as he took the call. "Danielson, you sound like hell," Beckett replied. Avery noted that Beckett sounded pretty tired. "I could say the same," he said, chuckling as he did.

Beckett wasn't interested in small talk, though. He never was. "Redmill State Troopers picked up our little friend last night, Danielson," he said. Avery shot straight up in the booth. "Where?" Beckett shrugged inaudibly. "Dunno. They're going to transfer him to FIO, and we're working with the Office to secure some personal time with him. That'll take a few days, though. While you're playing games with Green Dawn's best agent, maybe you could consider coming back and trying to coax some HUMINT out of this guy? I hear you're good at that." Avery sighed. "I guess I'll try to arrange it. I'm still working on putting together some more pieces, though. But I'll think about it."

Hanging up, Avery was able to smile weakly. _At least we're one step closer,_ he thought to himself, relishing the thought. Diego, however, was buried in his work now. He must be on the trail, Avery thought, but before he could engross himself in his own part of the work, Diego's face lit up. "I've got it here!"

"What? What is it?"

Diego clapped softly. He then turned the laptop around so that Avery could see the screen. Avery began reading softly. "Location One-One-Eight? What the hell's that mean, man? It could me—"

Diego's smile widened as he saw the dawning expression on Avery's face. "Oh my God," Avery said. "Does that mean…"

"Yes," Diego responded, nodding slowly. "There's a lot more to our friend here than we think. Remember what San Salvacion did back in twenty-oh-nine, when they 'shockingly' quit ISAF? I think this is what they were going for, but I don't believe they knew about the warehouse Bruun had left behind in his haste."

Avery tilted his head. "So…if they didn't know about the warehouse…"

"Someone else did. I don't know who, but someone else did," Diego said, picking up where Avery left off. "I wouldn't be surprised if either this Fleischer fellow—" Avery cut him off. "How did you know about Fleischer?" Diego smiled. "Ways and means, Doctor Danielson. Ways and means. Anyway, I would not be surprised if this Fleischer fellow knows the man with the keys. We need to find the gatekeeper to get in, because I can assure you that this warehouse, or warehouses, will be under lock and key."

Avery was slumped, fumbling around with the keys to the rental car, contemplating the options. Finally, he shot straight up. "Well, what about this. I go back home, I talk to this Fleischer fuckface, and we bust open his operation. I reckon one of two things happens. If he's the gatekeeper, problem solved. If not, we'll find the intelligence that gets us to the gatekeeper. Hopefully, he, she, it, whatever the hell, doesn't find out. We do that, and we should be squared away, no?" Diego didn't look convinced. "Who does the raid? If it's the military, you're going to have an outcry. If it's the police, they'll get killed."

Avery smiled slyly. "You're forgetting one thing," he said. "We've got the HRT."

**244 Gant Drive**

**Margate, Nassau**

**February 16, 2028**

**0900 hours**

It was a long flight, but the happiness on Taylor's face for getting home unexpectedly early was worth it. Even if Corrigan's seats still suck ass.

The good night had—to make up for Valentine's, of course—was made less fantastic when Taylor made a mumbled announcement into a pillow.

"I'm being stationed in Vedia."

Avery was dumbstruck. "I thought you'd been reassigned to Department of State on a permanent basis," he said, downcast. Taylor could only look away. "I got reassigned to Foreign Service reserves recently. They said it was a precautionary measure because they were short on non-volunteers. After they upgraded the hardship level for Indus, they assigned me there, because I was listed as hardship-willing."

It wasn't exactly the news Avery wanted to hear. While he felt a duty to his country, and wanted his partner to feel the same way, he still felt uneasy. Avery knew that Taylor would have to go alone, and now he was working at the Agency and taking care of a five-year-old…this wasn't a good situation.

"I hope you know of some arrangements we can make for Sierra," he finally said. Taylor nodded, not turning her head to face Avery again. "Charlie and Nina will take them," she said, almost wistfully. "Did he come back from Verusa yet?" Avery asked. Taylor nodded again.

Avery still felt a sense of anger welling up, because he was already putting together what was happening. _I don't even care if she'd be the right one for the job, I don't want her getting fucking killed in all of this. If she even gets hurt, Donilon's going down with her,_ he thought to himself.

Normally, Avery wasn't this agitated into defending his friends and family. But the way Taylor was acting about it, what Donilon said in the briefing before he went to meet Diego…

_He knew what he was doing the whole time, the fuck. I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. I knew I should have pushed him further from intervention, told him to let the Agency handle it. Jesus Christ, how could I have missed that? This seems so obvious now._

The more obvious it became, the angrier he got. Taylor turned over, gave Avery a short kiss, and mumbled something about needing to get up early before falling asleep.

Alone in his thoughts, Avery could feel his blood pressure rising. This is not good for going to sleep, he thought, thinking he might get something to calm him down. _I've probably got some diazepam in the cabinet._ Ever since his spate of panic attacks a few years ago, he had kept a current bottle in the bathroom. _Never know when you'd need the things, and the last thing I need right now is an irregularity check from Fort Eustis._ In fact, the nanobots inside of him were probably already in the yellow range because of irregular pulse and blood pressure.

After fumbling around in the cabinet, Avery managed to swallow a dose of the depressant dry. It was not an experience he felt like repeating in the future. _Next time, get some water._

Staggering back into the bedroom, Avery had to pass by Taylor's side of the bed. In the moonlight, he could easily see her face. The look was tortured, as if torn between two incredibly powerful influences on her life. _At least she's not taking this lightly,_ he thought, as he stumbled to his side of the bed and nearly fell into it.

_Jesus Christ, what a night,_ he thought, before finally falling asleep.

**FIO Headquarters**

**Oured, Nassau**

**February 17, 2028**

**1100 hours**

"I can't believe you're wanting to put me up to this," DCI Beckett said, as he walked with Avery to the Director's Office. "We're going to try to send the FIO, and then their HRT after what might be a small private army? This is going to be a fucking suicide mission for these guys."

Avery shook his head. "These guys train with Deltas. What are you so worried about? It's not like you. Fuck's sake Patrick, you got shot with a laser. You don't get to be scared about things like this."

Beckett could only shrug and nod. _Danielson has a point there,_ he thought. But still, he preferred the idea of Deltas themselves taking care of the problem. Even so, he had to appreciate Danielson's nearly shocking level of tact in the face of, as far as anyone knew, the love of his life being deployed to a diplomatic mission in the heart of a war zone. So many decisions. It must be a struggle for such a young kid to be trying to handle this, he thought, though Beckett immediately realized that sounded silly.

Avery and Beckett turned to the Director's office. FIO Director Raymond Sidney was a tall, burly man, who had spent decades in law enforcement before his time in the FIO, much less as its director. A gregarious Atlanta native, he was always happy to talk anyone's ear off about the sights of his hometown of Palmetto.

"What can ah do for y'all?" Sidney asked, motioning for Avery and Beckett to seat themselves. Beckett turned to Avery and gave him a short nod, as if to say, this one's yours, kiddo. Avery took the initiative. "Of course, we wanted to talk shop about talking to our mutual friend Jonas Fleischer, but that's not what we're here for." Sidney looked surprised. "Okay," he said, "go on." Avery nodded and continued, "right. We were actually interested in involving the Hostage Rescue Team for a probable operation."

Sidney leaned back slowly in his chair. According to what everyone had told him, Avery took this to mean he was in thought. He had also been told to keep pushing if this happened. "We know Fleischer's running his schtick out of some office here in the Federation, but we don't know exactly where. If we figure out where it is, we'd like the HRT to clean it up. It would help us out a lot in pinning down some certain…"

Avery glanced over. Beckett was shaking his head. _Okay,_ Avery thought to himself, _don't bring up the nuke intel. Christ, I'm still barely above water after thirteen years on this job._ He picked back up. "Certain bits of intelligence, Director Sidney. You know how it is." Sidney smiled and nodded. More understanding than disagreeable, it looked. Avery took this as a good sign. "We of course would let your people take full credit, and would be happy to supply whatever needed to maintain that cover story. We just need one of your 412s, a team of HRT guys, and some people willing to take big risks."

Sidney chuckled at the last part. "Son," he said, "_everyone_ in the HRT is willing tuh take big risks." Avery sighed and laughed in relief. "So we have a deal?" Sidney nodded. They shook hands to emphasize the finality of it. As they broke the handshake, Sidney finally remembered to respond. "Ah, yep. Sure thing, kid. Beckett, could I see you in private for a bit?" Beckett motioned for Avery to leave. "Go ahead and take the car back, Avery," he said. Beckett tossed Avery the keys. Avery was hoping to have a chance to visit Nassau State Police headquarters, anyway. He wanted to meet this crazy bastard who'd caught Fleischer.

**Osean Department of State**

**Oured, Nassau**

**February 17, 2028**

**1300 hours**

Taylor pulled into her assigned parking space, albeit slowly. She didn't really want to be here. _This isn't my job, _she thought._ It's not…my war._

But just as she felt it wasn't her war, it wasn't her place to argue, either. Reservists didn't get a lot of leeway, whether it was in the military or in the diplomatic corps. Avery had taught her a couple of things about data mining in Osean databases after he'd done a tour with his company in Verusa…whatever company it is that he worked for. He always said it was a policy thinktank.

Now, it was time to put that to the test. Once she was on station at the embassy in Amirabad, Taylor resolved that her first order of business would be establishing connections to all kinds of databases she was cleared on now. Maybe then she could get to the heart of all of this. In the meantime, the nagging feeling that she didn't belong on this assignment was tugging at the back of her mind.

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 17, 2028**

**1340 hours**

Just minutes later, Avery was back at headquarters, wondering what was going through Taylor's mind.

_She must be torn up about this. I would be too, even though my commitment to the Federation is strong. I wish I had a clue as to why she was being called up._

He didn't have much time to think about it. Gabe popped into his office. "Hey, Doctor Danielson, sir," he said, excitedly. "I heard about your wife being deployed. You need anything?" Avery shook his head. "No, Gabe. Just…don't bring that up again until she comes back, please," he responded.

Gabe got the message. _If there's anything he's good at, it's getting the picture,_ Avery thought to himself. _That's part of the reason I picked him out of the pool._

"Uh, Gabe?" Avery called. "Yes sir?"

"Get me an Aurelian Vanilla tea. Hot."

"Sure thing, Doctor Danielson, sir."

Losa thought that because Avery was former Air Defense Force, he had to add "sir" to the end of everything. He thought it was sort of endearing for Gabe to do, but he'd have to get over it soon if he was going to work here after college. Not everyone enjoys being treated like a drill sergeant.

Avery had already decided that today he would be checking up on Aurora recon overflights of Indus and Vedia. Satellites were nice, but they were too easily fooled. Osea's massive defense complex afforded the CIA easy access to VISINT and ELINT from various key countries at any given time. Thanks to absolutely psychotic behavior by the two nations, the International United Nations was already flooding an international flotilla to force the navies apart, and steps were being taken to have international control of the countries' nuclear arsenals.

But Avery suspected the latter was not a wise course of action. To confirm these suspicions, however, he would need access to ongoing aerial surveillance, which now was strewn across his desk. There were pictures of all kinds of bases and installations, and now Avery would have to take to the task of sorting all the images out into differing classes.

Before he could start, his phone started ringing. It was Taylor. "Hi Avery. I just wanted to say…thanks for what you told me after coming back from Verusa a couple of years ago. I'm about to make good use of it. I just wanted you to know that before I got on the plane."

All Avery could stammer out before she hung up was "Uh…I…er…you're welcome?"

_Jesus Christ, now I sound like goddamned idiot,_ he thought to himself, as he put the phone back down on the desk.

Walking over to the pinboard, Avery pinned up his signs and string lines. Dividing the board into thirds—naval bases, missile bases, and airbases. Each one had their role in nuclear warfare, but the middle section—missile bases—is what counted. It was the only group where Vedia had any platform that could launch something the size of V2.

"This is gonna be a long day," Avery muttered, as he started picking up photos from the table.

* * *

**Osean Embassy**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 18, 2028**

**0900 hours**

"Welcome, Officer Grimm."

Foreign Service Officer Hans Grimm stepped into his temporary office. This station was expected to only be a couple of months before he would be reassigned back to his post at the State Department. But Vedia was really hot and humid, and it didn't take long for Hans to miss his old post under the cool windstreams of the Oured Bay.

The room's air conditioning was adequate, however, and Grimm quickly got to work making phone calls.

In another office, Taylor Danielson was getting used to her own accommodations. Unlike Grimm, she had ulterior motives. Starting up the computer at her desk, Taylor put in her credentials and immediately began accessing a variety of databases she was cleared for.

BTSTME, CIAFD, DOSPID, all these insane acronyms. Taylor wracked her brain to try to think up other fields to draw from. Troop movements? Covered. CIA factfinder updates? Covered. Political information? Covered.

Now to see if she could find anything going on near Vedia…

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 18, 2028**

**0020 hours**

"Fuck."

Avery had still succeeded in identifying all twelve of Vedia's missile bases and had sent the requisite images down for double-checking. Hopefully, the peacekeeping operation would move too slowly to beat the CIA to them. Anything less could be disastrous.

Grabbing some more tea from the commissary down the hall, Avery started poring over measurement charts and other data from all known Vedian missile bases. Only one of them matched the qualifications for a V2 launch, he noted. _Seems like there should be more of these if they were stockpiling for a campaign,_ he thought, looking over the specification sheets again.

_No…still just one. There must be other bases._

A quick flip through the factfinder database confirmed that there were only twelve known Vedian missile bases, and Location 27B was the only one that could accommodate something as big as a V2. _So there must be more,_ Avery thought.

Just then, his phone started ringing.

_Taylor._

Scattering a number of pens, markers, and photos across the desk, Avery grabbed the phone and accepted the call. "Uh, hullo," he said.

"Avery. Thank God. I didn't know if I'd be able to reach you at this hour." At least she's adjusting to the time change pretty well. "I did some digging. I picked up a memo for what's called a…what's it again? Oh, here, it's a flash…flash access. Except the flash part is in all caps."

Avery got nervous. "Whoa, whoa, okay, hold on now. What's that one say?"

Taylor sounded even more nervous. "I've already got a compressed file I can send you. It's kinda big, one-point-eight gigs. But I figure you have fast enough internet for it."

Avery nodded. "Yeah, I can get that pretty quickly. Send it. But don't send it to my normal address. Send it to, ah, shit…oh, ad1988 at marcorp dot net, okay? Marcorp dot net. Got it?" Taylor responded quietly. "Mm-hm. Got it." Avery wasn't finished. "Don't even put a subject line in it. The only way to trigger a search on that email is through the subject line."

Within seconds, he could hear his own computer alerting him to the presence of the email. "Just got it," he confirmed. Lemme take a look at this little FLASH-Access memo.

The memo looked pretty simple.

**Operational information**

**Send date:** 16-02-2028

**Execution date:** 24-02-2028

**Code name:** Heartbreak One

**Operation Heartbreak One details:**

Osean Air Defense Force 178th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Black Dogs" to assist with top cover in aiding 5th Carrier Group "Louis Murphy" to execute Operation Sand Island. Goal of Operation Sand Island—complete subjugation of Vedian military. Sent via FLASH-Access for maximized security.

**Precautions:** Operation may spark major international conflict/incident.

**Other requests:** Please confirm use of fifth-generation aircraft to ensure maximized operational success.

Avery leaned back in his chair.

"Sheeeeeit," he muttered. Then it struck him. Donilon's choices hadn't been accidental. He knew what he was doing.

Before he could begin seething, Losa knocked quietly and entered the office. "Doctor Danielson, sir, Fleischer's below in the interrogation room."

Avery finally had something less painful to do. "Okay honey, don't forget to call back. Thinking about you. Gotta go. Bye." He kissed the phone, feeling ridiculous, but you never knew who knew who and who was involved in what in this place.

"Thanks, Gabe," he said, grabbing his coat as he walked to the office door.

**Black Site 1-Alpha**

**Somewhere near Fort Eustis, Nassau**

**February 18, 2028**

**0115 hours**

David Bartholomew, an assets expert and Special Activities veteran, handed Avery the manila folder of all relevant information on this Mr. Jonas Fleischer. It included a simple biodata sheet and a ton of photographs of locations where Fleischer was seen. Avery flicked through them quickly, noting that one of them was Verusan Naval Dock 375. Connections were already forming.

"Okay, Fleischer, we know who you are, and what you do. Now fill in the rest for us. Where did you get the explosives to cut through the Mount Schirm rockslide? That place was sealed up pretty good."

"How do you know I did that? You can't prove it."

"Like hell. We've got your fingerprints on the scene. It was sealed when you were nine years old, dipshit."

"Okay, so what if I did?"

"How'd you get in?"

"What's it to you? It doesn't matter to you. All you're doing is trying to soften me. You won't. I'm a hard Belkan man, built by the sands of time to crush _üntermensch_ like you."

_Just as I suspected. He's a racist bastard—but that means he's also cocky,_ Avery thought to himself.

"Okay, I see how this is going to be. You're going to stonewall me. Alright."

"I can see the rage in your eyes, Osean pig. You want to kill me. Why not? You've already got your Osean shit gun on you. Just shoot me. Make me a martyr."

Avery laughed. "No. I won't do that…yet. But how were you moving these missiles to the Verusans?"

"I don't think you understand, Mister Osea. I'm not going to talk to you about this. I'll tell you what I will talk about. You Oseans, you always act like you're so much more right than Belkans. But what do Belkans do that is wrong? They kill. Now what do you threaten to do? Kill me. How are you better than your enemy?"

Avery just chuckled. "Fleischer, just in this folder I have enough to ship you off to Port Edwards and have you tried for a laundry list of war crimes. I don't need to know anything you have to offer, I'm just trying to decide if I want to shoot you or not. Because you know what? Your actions caused my President to act irrationally, and now my wife is stationed in the middle of a goddamned war zone on account of you. Does that thought make you hard, Fleischer? Is that what gets you off? I tell you what…"

Avery produced a quarter zollar coin from his pocket. "Call it in the air. Get the call and I send you with these nice fellows from the FIO. You lose, and I kill you."

Avery flipped the coin.

**901 Marigold Way**

**Oceanview, Chevalle**

**August 19, 2077**

"To be honest, Takara," Avery said, pointing decisively at her chest. "I knew what that coin was going to do as soon as I made the deal. It was going to land on whatever he called."

Avery chuckled at the memory. "Sure enough, that fucker called tails, and it landed tails."

**February 18, 2028**

"Special Agent Barker," Avery called, motioning the FIO agent into the room. "Take this fuckin' bastard away. I don't want to see his face ever again."

In less than an hour, Avery was back to his office. Back to staring at that memo. Back to wondering what would become of Taylor.

He scanned over a handful of other related memos. Nothing new really popped out at him, other than some battle plans for Operation Sand Island. Taylor apparently couldn't scrounge up any for Operation Heartbreak One. That just made the whole thing more disconcerting.

But wait, Avery thought. Who would have to sign off on Heartbreak One?

It wasn't a reality he wanted to face, but it looked more and more like he was about to be caught up in another intra-agency scandal. Not what he was expecting when he saw Taylor in that silky nightrobe just a few nights before.

The anger was welling up again, but this time, Gabe wasn't there to keep it from brimming over. Avery stormed over to his computer, printed off the Sand Island and Heartbreak One memos, and tore them out of the printer. From there, it was off to Beckett's office. He'd still be there, as usual.

In just minutes, Avery arrived. Slamming the papers on the table, Avery lost control.

"Director Beckett, what the fuck is this?"

Beckett turned around quickly at the sound of Avery's tone. "Danielson? What are you doing here so la—" Avery cut him off. "Cut the crap, Beckett. What the fuck is this on these papers? I'm cleared on this shit, but you never briefed me on it. This was two days ago, Beckett. I'm not fucking happy about this."

Beckett realized that he had to do something to mollify Avery, but it wasn't about to happen. Avery gave Beckett a stare that could have frozen lava. The look Beckett had in response told Avery everything he needed to know. He collected the memos and stormed back to his office in a angry haze. He picked up the phone and set an appointment with the President for the next morning. He was going to confront Donilon on this too.

**Brighthill Manor**

**Oured, Nassau**

**February 18, 2028**

**0900 hours**

Entering the Presidential Suite, Donilon could tell by the look on Avery's face that something was wrong. "Doctor Danielson, what can I—" Avery cut him off.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, Donilon? Did you think I'd just let this slip? No harm, no foul? Except harm, Donilon. And foul! You fucking scumbag. I told you to butt the fuck out of this. Run a peace deal, maybe, and that was already risking a perfectly manageable status quo."

Now it was Donilon's turn. "Nukes are not a status quo, Danielson! Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"You don't fucking get it, do you? Putting my wife in the middle of your egotistical, bleeding-heart bullshit, and probably getting her killed? You disgust me, Donilon. You've lost sight of what you're here to do. You're here to lead, not propagandize like a Yuke prick. You've been discovered, Donilon."

With that, Avery stormed out of the manor, knowing that he had a ticking clock to make things right. This wasn't an operation where he could afford a miss.


	6. Chapter 5—Crisis

Chapter Five

Crisis

**CIA Headquarters**

**Fort Eustis, CD**

**February 18, 2028**

**1120 hours**

Avery turned the corner toward David Bartholomew's office. The pair had worked together on several occasions, but David found himself owing Avery more than the other way around.

Pushing the door open, Avery made a fairly dramatic, not to mention blustery, entrance. David swiveled around in his chair. "Uh, well, hello to you too, Avery—"

Avery had no patience. "I've just gotten wind of this," he said, slamming the memos on the desk. "And I don't really feel like playing games with formalities. When you have a wife, and she's in imminent danger from her own goddamned country, you let me know."

All David could do was shake his head. Even though Avery was an airman, he was always more of a firebrand than the former Delta Force operator. "Alright, what's got your goat, Avery?" David replied as he picked up the papers off the desk.

Skimming them quickly, it wasn't hard to figure out the situation. "So, Donilon's going to try to take out Vedia, eh? Well, I wish I could sympathize or something, man. I don't get how this puts your girl in harm's way, aside from the normal risks associated with a full-blown military conflict." Avery didn't look amused.

"I don't know how deep this goes, David, but I'm going to Vedia. And you're going with me." At this, David sat up straight in his chair. "Nuh-uh, buddy. This is your fight, not mine." Avery's eyes seemingly changed plates of frozen steel. "No, David. This is everyone's fight. You're going to help me. The flight's Verusan Ten-Fourteen. It leaves Oured International at twenty-hundred tonight. Be there, or be square."

Avery dropped a final sheet of paper on the table. An e-ticket, David thought to himself. He's already planned this out…and I do owe him for his ass-saving in the San Martin gig.

David walked over to his vault. He needed to go down to the armory.

* * *

**Hancock AFB**

**Hancock, Atticus**

**February 18, 2028**

**1100 hours**

Major Rebecca Chu was preparing her squadron for another combat air patrol. "Still can't fuckin' believe they're keeping us in these Sand Falcons for this shit! We've got a National Guard detachment with Sea Eagles on offer, but nooo, send up the Falcon whores to do all the dirty work!" Captain Michael Barth didn't feel like putting up any resistance today.

"Ah, come on Major, it's just a CAP. We fly around for a few minutes and then we get to pack it in and go home. But I'm with you, life without an ongoing operation is fuckin' boring." Barth knew what Rebecca really meant at any given time. He always said that was a wingman's job. Knowing what your lead wants before they even tell you what it is.

Line crews were loading XMAAs onto the F-16Es arrayed on the flight line. The pilots were already doing their pre-flights when Colonel Daniel Schermer strolled out to the flight line. "Major Chu," he called out, as she was inspecting her hardpoint mountings. "What is it, Colonel?" Rebecca asked, snapping a quick salute to greet him. "We've got new orders, Chu. We're to begin practicing for this tomorrow. We don't have a lot of time, but you can do it." He handed over the memo.

Rebecca scanned the memo. She didn't like what she saw. Maybe it was that Whittier education getting to her. Keeping a straight face, she handed the re-folded memo back to the adjutant. "So what's the planned regimen?" Rebecca asked. Schermer shrugged. "Dunno yet. Hoping we can plot it out after you get back from this CAP, if that's okay with you." Rebecca looked at him suspiciously. "Okay, I'll bring Barth along and we can talk some shop in the OC tonight. I could go for a post-flight rum anyway."

The patrol was predictably uneventful. The most exciting part of the trip was watching a Yuktobanian Tu-144 fly by on an easterly course. But Rebecca was distracted for the whole flight, thinking about the operation they were going to undertake. Bombing a "potential enemy" embassy? That just sounds ridiculous. In fact, it sounds wrong, she thought as she made a final turn for landing to conclude the CAP.

Too distracted by her own thoughts, Rebecca had failed to notice that turning in to the hangars was gaggle of Aurelian-designed Rafales. There were just four of them, slowly being herded into the hangar area. Barth noted the aircraft after the landing.

"Major, did you see those Rafales parking when we landed?" Rebecca shook her head. "I was thinking about the operation we're being called up for. Why?" Barth pointed in the direction of the hangars. "They were movin' some Rafales in here. Whadaya think those are for?" Rebecca shrugged. "We see evaluation planes all the time. Maybe that's it."

She couldn't help but wonder if they were for something more sinister.

* * *

**Amirabad International Airport**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 19, 2028**

**0630 hours**

Mercifully, the flight from Panyu to Amirabad was on an Airtaxi A33. At least I was able to catch some sleep on that flight, Avery thought, as the plane touched down.

After collecting their diplomatic bags, Avery and David were in a cab on the way to the Osean embassy. They were able to make their appointment with the new Embassy Director, a Hans Grimm. Avery frowned back when he had first seen the name. Archer had always been the weakest pilot.

Grimm's office, to put it lightly, was opulent. Sinking into the two leather chairs, the CIA operatives were told that Director Grimm was out on a sudden call-up, but he would be back before too long. Almost half an hour later, Grimm entered the office.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting. The Indian Foreign Minister showed up and I had to get a meeting in. What can I—"

Realizing Avery was in the room, Grimm stopped. "Sir…?" he very nearly whispered.

"Yeah, Grimm, it's me, and I'm working for the government still. Get your jaw off the floor, kid. Look, I need to see Taylor." Grimm finally pieced it together. "So you got married too? Wow. Uh, she's working on something, she said. Office is three-oh-seven…Charlie, I guess I should say, huh?" Grimm's trying hard to not lose his shit, I guess, Avery thought to himself, waving in thanks as he walked out.

Taylor was hunched over her computer, apparently trying to hide something, when Avery walked in.

"Hey."

Taylor popped her head up. She looked tired.

"I know you're busy trying to get to the bottom of this. That's why I'm here," Avery said, sitting on her side of the desk. "You've done well. But for now, I want you to focus on being safe. Do you know where the bunker here is?" Taylor seemed surprised. "There's a bunker?" Avery nodded. "It's just down the hall. Go in the janitor's closet, flip on the light. There's a utility box there, but it's a false door. Open up the box and you'll find a door handle. Go through there and you're in."

Avery sighed. "It seems like there's a possibility that this place will be threatened. I'm going to call you daily, around fifteen-hundred. You know what that means?"

Taylor nodded. "Good," Avery continued, "I'll be calling you at that time, give or take half an hour. I will say 'things are normal,' and hang up. If I do not call, get in the bunker immediately. There's a FLASH-Access computer in there. Boot it up on the hour on every even-numbered hour if you have to use the bunker. I'll send you any updates that I can. I have override codes for that system."

Avery stood up to leave. "Get some sleep, too. You're going to be a lot better at all of this with more of it."

Seeing Taylor again killed him. But as much as he wanted to go back to being together, it wasn't meant to be for now. Gripping the doorframe on the way out, he turned to look at her one last time.

"I love you," he said softly as he walked out the door.

* * *

**Hancock AFB**

**Hancock, Atticus**

**February 20, 2028**

**0500 hours**

Colonel Schermer made his way over to Major Chu, as she sat at the breakfast table.

"Major, have you considered the short training session since our chat the other night?"

Rebecca just glared at him. "Yeah, I thought about dicking around with another shitty Vulcan. I'm not a big fan of gettin' tossed into another twenty-millimeter-equipped plane, you know. 'Least we could do is get changed over to Tornados or something, a plane with a real gun in it."

The colonel shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. Will you be okay with the Tigersharks, though?" Rebecca waved dismissively. "Yeah yeah, we'll just fly the fuckin' Tigersharks. Leave me alone for now, sir, alright?" Schermer took the hint, fully cognizant that in spite of his higher rank, this CO was practically untouchable. For now, he thought to himself.

Rebecca remained hunched over her scrambled eggs. They taste like shit, she thought. But that was normal. OADF meals were always pretty shitty.

To take her mind off the shitty food, Rebecca thought about the night before. I didn't see the Rafales getting parked last night, but I guess Barth did. I probably can't look at them now…but it might be worth a shot. Maybe Colonel Danielson knows what's going on.

She resolved to head down to Hangar Eight with Barth after the day's training.

* * *

**Traveler Inn**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 20, 2028**

**1700 hours**

David and Avery quickly set to unpacking their bags. They had to set up an operations base, and quickly. It didn't take long for Avery's phone to ring.

"Hello, Mister Danielson," the thickly-accented voice on the other end of the line said. "I'm coming into Amirabad tomorrow afternoon. Will someone be available to pick me up? Connections said you are in town."

_What do I have to lose? He's on our side._

"Sure, I can pick you up. What's the arrival time?" Avery asked. "Fourteen-twenty," came the reply. "I'll be there. Bringing friends?" Diego laughed. "Two," he said. Sometimes, Diego working alongside the Agency was a little creepy. This was one of them. "Well, I'll bring along a courtesy car to pick you all up," Avery replied. "See you then." The pair hung up.

Avery turned to David, who was working on something on a laptop. "Well, David, our friends are coming tomorrow. Better get a courtesy car for them."

Avery pulled out some more tourist-looking clothes out from the dresser. "I'm going to head down to Home Plate and do some scouting. You going to have that car picked up by the time I get back?" David waved dismissively and grunted a "yeah." Avery knew it would get done. With David, it always got done.

**Inter-Services Intelligence Headquarters**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 20, 2028**

**1800 hours**

It wasn't a long drive, but it was a long time before Avery arrived. As sketchy as it would appear, some white guy walking around Amirabad's governmental district, he had to get some intel on entry points for his infiltration agent. Walking around to an alley, Avery found one of the many alley bars that populated the city. The alley bars were particularly popular hangouts with Westerners. If nothing else, he'd look a little less conspicuous.

As with many such bars, this one was unnamed. There were plenty of light-skinned faces, but there were a good number of Vedians in the bar too. The sun was starting to set, at any rate, and the alley's lighting might provide some good entry points.

It was weird, having to think like this again. Avery hadn't felt like thinking like this in a long time. No, they'd relegated him to commanding operations a long time ago, not carrying them out.

Scanning the wall was tricky at this kind of range. The ISI headquarters were now a courtyard away from him. He could see the solid wall, but only a small part of the building was visible. There was a segment of wall that was latticed, making the situation a bit less complicated, but not by much.

Then he saw it. Glancing down at the gutter, trying to figure out all of the paths in and out of the building, there it was. An outlet that had to come from the intelligence building.

After paying for his drink, Avery stood outside, taking a look at the pipe. It wasn't big—maybe three feet wide, if that—_but if Slice crawled in…_

It was risky. But on closer inspection, Avery noticed it was unused. Maybe it just got incinerated every day. If that was the case, you wait until after the daily gutter clearance, and then…

With this knowledge in mind, Avery walked back to the main road to call a cab. This operation was about to be a real go.

* * *

**Amirabad International Airport**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 21, 2028**

**1510 hours**

Finally, a trio Avery recognized emerged from the terminal. "There they are," Avery said to David. "Pop the trunk."

Keeping in time with the tenable statements of his three new colleagues, Avery welcomed them to Vedia. "The most beautiful shithole on the Verusan continent!" he said.

This elicited a chuckle from everyone but Slice. She had a weird sense of humor anyway.

The car was now full of bags and intelligence operatives. As David began pulling away from the terminal, Avery began introducing the new guests. "We have Diego Acosta, chief handler for Green Dawn, Diana Yang, who's Special Activities, and Balthazar Scheinberg, chief agent in Operations. I think their roles should make enough sense."

David nodded. He was focused on the manic driving from the other vehicles on the now-crowded highway. "We'll be going over details back at the hotel," Avery said, turning back to the cramped backseat. "Meanwhile, I figure you should get acquainted with some areas we'll be working in."

After a short tour of the city, the contingent was back at the hotel. There was a need for rest before the next day's activity.

**Inter-Services Intelligence Headquarters**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 22, 2028**

**0430 hours**

Three people, two cars. That was the modus operandi for the day.

Two cars pulled up to each other in a downtown parking garage. Windows were rolled down. "Okay, Diego, hold here. I'm going to drop off Slice down by the alleyway. Here's a phone number," he said, handing over a slip of paper. "When you get a call from that number, it's your signal to move."

Operative Diana Yang was still in the passenger seat, methodically cleaning a pair of kukri knives. As Avery drove out of the garage, he turned to the other seat. "You're real fucked up, you know that?"

Yang just smiled in response and continued wiping the knives with some kind of oil.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up in front of an alleyway. "Here's your stop," Avery said. "You know the entry point."

The alley bars would be closed at this hour. Nobody to observe the entry of a tall woman in a dark ninja suit. "If you're going to be an ELINT ninja, you better get this done right the first time," Avery said. "Remember what I told you. This could be a career maker for you."

With that, Yang closed the door. Avery drove back to the hotel.

Diana stepped up to the piping. Something smelled odd. It smelled…like gas. This was probably a burn bag exhaust. _Fucking amateurs,_ she thought, as she crawled in. The smell faded away. The burns were conducted at night, almost certainly, but it was early morning now.

After several minutes of crawling and referring back to a tablet, Diana finally made it to the grate over the main database room. Pulling out a laser cutter, she carefully cut into the frame of the grate, checked for anyone else inside, and then punched through.

As soon as she did so, her earpiece came alive. "You're inside. Good work. Keep it up."

_Way to scare me shitless, buddy,_ Diana thought to herself, as she carefully stepped around, not wanting to trip any possible laser alarms. Walking up to a centrally-located computer, she gave the signal for login details.

Back at the hotel, Balt was already at work. "I'm not gonna give you details. I have a thought about their security feed network. Something tells me they've linked it to the data archives—call it an old Security Agency hunch."

Diana groaned at having to wait. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. Taking a breath, she thrust the device into the waiting port. Security wasn't going to know any better for a few minutes anyway, right? They were in too much of a stupor.

"Alright, Slice, you're in. So am I. I'll keep security off your back—or at least tell you when and where they're coming. My hunch was right. These guys didn't learn anything from the Verusans," Balt said. "Right now, everything's pretty clear. You don't have much to worry about, just let the script do its job, and check the work against the list on the tablet."

Diana nodded inaudibly, but the acknowledgement was felt by everyone back at the hotel anyway. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the script to work. "Slice, you got security on your ass."

•••

Sergeant Ganesh Patel's team was the first to receive the call. "Team One, we've got a security breach in the archive facility. Please investigate, over." Sergeant Padma Darzi's team was alerted not long after by Central Security.

Team One deployed to the north door, and Team Two to the other door, the east door out of the central data archive. The intruder had no way out.

•••

Diana Yang was completely comfortable with the notion of being boxed in. This is what years of Compartmented Elements and ECHELON training had prepared her for, and now it was time to show what she could do. Scheinberg kicked in his own help. The computerized lights were no match for an ex-NSA computer whiz.

Diana flicked her night-vision goggles down and turned them on. The green shapes she saw probably beat whatever the Vedians had. But she didn't have much time to think about it.

•••

Patel's point man burst through the door. "We know the layout, men," Patel shouted, encouraging his troops as they entered. "Let's find the intruder! We know he is here!" But before Private Sanjeev Nagarkar could start focusing, he heard the snap of a bullet. It was the last thing he'd hear.

•••

Diana retrieved a kukri knife slung across her back. Like the marksman she was with a firearm, she launched the knife across the room at the point man. The blade chopped into his chest, upper left side. He went down instantly, almost certainly dead. Slinking up to retrieve the knife, Diana got behind the trailer as he entered the room. Taking out her combat knife, she grabbed the trailer from behind and silently slit his throat.

_Too easy,_ she thought to herself. Two quick shots to the back of the others' heads later, the first four men in were dead. Just as that happened, four flashlights burst through another side of the room. Team Two had entered.

•••

Private Gautam Gadhavi was the first man in. He barely made it past the door before a kukri knife rocketed into his upper torso. In confusion, the private behind him began wildly firing his rifle. Before he could even finish the magazine, a subsonic .45 round ripped through his neck. Vishal Joshi collapsed to the floor, unable to speak or breathe.

The snaps of a heavily suppressed pistol were the last sounds heard by Team Two's most senior troopers. They joined their comrades in the last march—to the entrance of Valhalla.

Diana surveyed the room through the green world created by her night-vision goggles. "Jesus Christ, Slice, this is going to be a lot harder to deny," Avery blurted over the radio. "We're trying to keep this quiet."

Diana hissed back. "It's going to be hard to complete this mission without your data."

That was a reminder. The clearance request had to be ready by now. Diana dashed over to the main computer terminal and confirmed her guess. Pulling out the tablet, she quickly confirmed the appropriate files and initiated the copying and transfer. She wasn't paying much attention to the filenames, which would have quickly clued her into the activities of the ISI. It wasn't her job.

What _was_ her job was retrieving the files. The retrieval was successful, and Diana slipped out just before Team Three arrived on-site.

**Traveler Inn**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 22, 2028**

**2230 hours**

The rest of the group had gone to bed, planning their next step. But Avery was thinking of another operation. _Operation Heartbreak One is in just a couple of days. Then, they'll really be opening the war. A world war. But worse still, Taylor will get wiped out. I can't let that happen._

His sleepless thoughts were interrupted.

**OFS Jack Weeker**

**Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean**

**February 22, 2028**

**0030 hours**

Chu waited before getting the voicemail. "Hi, you've reached the voicemail box of Doctor Avery Danielson. I'm currently out of the country on an important assignment. If this call is personal, please call the following number." A long, Vedian phone number was given. "If this call is for business, please leave a message after the tone."

Chu hung up and dialed the number from the voicemail message.

**Vedia**

Avery was snapped out of his sleepless thoughts by the ringing of his phone. The number was Osean, but that was all he could figure. _What the hell, it's not like I have anything to lose,_ he thought, swiping for the phone. "Danielson," he replied, accepting the call.

"Oh thank God," the voice on the other end responded, with relief. Avery recognized the voice immediately. "Chu?"

"Yeah. Listen. I don't have much time. We got some orders last week for something that looks sketchy as hell, Colonel. Then, a coupla days ago, we got Rafales out of the blue. They ain't got Osean markings on 'em, man. I got some pics with Barth. I'll send them to you by email—what's your email these days, anyway?" Avery gave her the same address he'd given Taylor.

"Got it," Chu replied. "I'll send these pics. You got someone who can figure them out?" Avery nodded. "I got a guy with Bloch connections. We'll sort this shit out. Be safe, Major."

Chu chuckled on the other end. "Me?" she asked, rhetorically. "Never."

Flipping open his secured laptop, Avery scanned the photos quickly. The tail roundels looked…

"Jesus Christ," he said, loud enough to wake everyone up.

"What is it, man?" Balt asked, still in bed. "These are Indian markings," Avery said, only marginally aware that everyone else was now up. "Diego," Avery said, "come take down some serial numbers. You still know that parts guy at Bloch?" Diego chuckled. "Are you kidding? He's now their lead parts man, Doctor Danielson. You will know about these parts soon enough."

•••

The next morning, the team got ready to begin copying the files Diana had acquired from the ISI. David had bought up close to a hundred hard drives. "Each of these can store the entirety we ripped from the ISI's archives," David said, to begin a briefing. "We need people copying this stuff over and over again to make sure someone gets it safely. Scheinberg, we need you to be working on integrity solutions. I don't want this to be traceable."

David felt strange taking a commanding role, but Avery said he should get used to it. Whatever exactly that meant.

"Alright, people, let's hit it," David said. The first drives were copied out and each agent was hard at work. Diego was juggling phone calls as well, trying to reach his connections at Bloch.

Avery, meanwhile, had Taylor on his mind. The operation he had read about was looming now, and he didn't even know if there was anything he could do about it. That's what troubled him the most. Each hour that ticked by gnawed at him more and more.

* * *

**OFS Jack Weeker**

**Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean**

**February 23, 2028**

**1900 hours**

The sun had set already. That was the nice thing about the tropics. You could start night operations really quickly.

OADF Major Rebecca Chu had no intention of flying out the next morning to attack Osean citizens. Before leaving Naval Station Hampton, Chu had been sure to abscond with some wire cutters. She had hoped to blow up the Rafales with C4, but the thought of ruining perfectly good 30mm cannons didn't sit well with her.

Finding the modular control systems on each of the Rafales, Chu pulled out the wire cutters. That was when she had a better idea.

Lighting a cigarette, Chu then took the lighter to the wires. The plastic melted away easily enough, and the fiber-optic cables soon followed. Destroying the MCS modules on all of the Rafales, and satisfied that the laser guidance systems would be non-functional, she returned to her cabin. She could rest easy tonight.

Before turning in at her bunk, she called Avery's number. "Crisis averted," she whispered into the phone. Avery smiled on the other end. "Good work, Chu," he said. "Thanks for the help."

* * *

**Traveler Inn  
**

**Amirabad, Vedia**

**February 24, 2028  
**

**1100 hours**

Avery was still poring over the specifics of what the team had found. "Jesus, David, look at this stuff. We've got connections to Red Dragon, connections to Islamist groups from Karabastan and Sotoa, and…"

The stationery on the scan was instantly recognizable. "…holy fuck, they're working with Neucom." David quickly chastised Avery in response. "Come on, you don't know that. It just means they're involved with the ISI on some level. They're involved with all kinds of shit these days."

Avery nodded. "I know. But it seems…well, it just doesn't look accidental, you know?"

David placed a hand on Avery's shoulder. "Yeah, but what can you do?"

Avery sighed, almost as if he were in thought. "You know, I've realized something about all of this," he said.

"You know how we've always been afraid of someone trying to destroy the world, because we're afraid of the apocalypse? You know, living off the land, crazy shit like that? I'm realizing something, David. These nuclear attacks they're planning—it's not Cold War kind of stuff. They're not trying to set the world literally on fire. It's to bring down our systems of governance. They're trying to bring down modern society—and replace it with their vision."

David wasn't really tracking. He just nodded in acknowledgment.

"That's why we have to stop them," Avery continued, "they're going to bring a fate worse than nuclear annihilation—and we all thought that was impossible."

David chuckled. "I guess you really could call this a crisis, then," he said. "But, hey," he continued, "we need to get this stuff back to Eustis as fast as we can, eh?"

Avery nodded. "Probably. But we need to get the others out first."


End file.
